Seven Minutes
by starkidsftw
Summary: They say after you die, your brain stays alive for seven minutes. And in those seven minutes, you live your entire life over again. When Draco Malfoy's seven minutes arrived. he did relive his life: his experiences, his mistakes, his memories. But most importantly, he relived being with her. He relived hating her, loving her, and then ruining it forever. Dramione, 6th year
1. Prologue

**Hey. I'm back.**

**It's only been a few weeks since Fate Has Its Ways ended, but I'm so excited to write again.**

**For those of you who are new, hi! I'm Starkidsftw and I write stories and put messages at the beginning complaining about something/making disclaimers.**

**This is my new story: Seven Minutes. It's not a mystery like Fates, it's definitely a tragedy/romance. It's about the tragedy of making the wrong choices, and the tragedy of making the right ones.**

**It's Dramione. If that's not your thing, you don't have to read it. You still can, I mean, it's not like a Dramione fans only story, but that's a huge part of the plot. But, I'm not like a bouncer at a club who won't let you in unless you're a proven Dramione fan. It's open club. All are allowed.**

**I should just shut up now.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

* * *

They say after you die, your brain stays alive for seven minutes. And in those seven minutes, you relive your entire life. You don't realize this; it feels like you are going through everything for the very first time.

However, everything is already laid out. You wrote your life into a book when you lived it.

In those seven minutes, you read the book.

The book is everything you are: your memories, your experiences, and the moments that truly allowed you to live.

When Draco Malfoy's seven minutes came, he saw all those things. He saw himself hanging out with Crabbe and Goyle in the common room. He saw himself playing Quidditch on the pitch.

But, most importantly, he saw her.

He saw the moment when he knocked her books out of her hands. He saw her scowl as he mocked her friends. He saw the night stars as they sat on top of Astronomy tower, talking. He saw her smile when he decided not to do it. He saw her hatred when she realized it was a lie.

In those seven minutes, Draco Malfoy relived his life.

His short life of seventeen years.

His seven minutes came a little too soon for his liking. However, he would not have wanted to go at any other time, or for any other reason.

For when Draco Malfoy died, he died protecting the girl he loved.

Who could ask for a nobler exit?

And then again, who would want one?

For to die in the service of love, well, that is not a death at all.

That is an honour.

* * *

It was late March, 1998.

Draco was at his childhood home, Malfoy Manor. The Dark Lord had made the Manor his headquarters. After last year, Draco was officially a member of the Death Eaters, and now spent his days locked in the manor, watching the prisoners and occasionally torturing them.

Every time he raised his wand against another human being, her words from that fated night always rang through his head.

"_There's always a choice! You're just too much of a coward to accept that!"_

He was a coward, he knew that now. Only a coward would tie a man up in a cellar and proceed to torture him. Only a coward would kill to save his own life. Only a coward would fight for a cause he despised with every bone in his body.

Only a coward would leave her.

The regret filled his every waking moment, and his nightmares as well. He thought of that night at every moment. He could have done it differently. He could have made the right choice. He could have held her in his arms instead of turning his back on the only girl who had ever loved him.

He could've had her.

Instead, he had been a coward.

So then, nine months later, he was inside Malfoy Manor instead of at her side when the snatchers brought them in.

Draco was downstairs, bringing food to the few prisoners they had. Draco refused to look any of them in the eye. These were people he had shopped from, people he had sat in a classroom with for years.

These were people, not the scum of the earth. In fact, Draco felt more like scum than the prisoners of Malfoy Manor would ever be.

He was just laying a plate of stale bread in front of Dean Thomas when his name was called from upstairs.

"Draco! Get up here now!"

It was the voice of his father, Lucius Malfoy. Once a committed Death Eater, Lucius now spent every moment trying not to displease the Dark Lord even further. He took any opportunity that could put the Malfoys back into Lord Voldemort's good graces.

So when Draco heard his father's voice, anxious and excited and terrified all wrapped into one, he knew another opportunity had arisen. Without thinking, he dropped the plate in front of Thomas and raced back up to the Drawing Room.

His father was standing with his mother and Bellatrix. His parents were shaking nervously, their pale faces scared and excited. Bellatrix was smiling that demented, unhinged smile of hers. She was looking at a group that had just entered.

Draco turned. It was a group of snatchers, holding three teenagers hostage. Draco recognized Greyback, but the rest of the snatchers were strangers to him. Draco turned his attention to the three teenagers instead.

The one in the middle was fairly tall, and fairly built. He looked about the same age as Draco. The boy had black hair, hanging limp and messy over his heavily distorted face. It looked like his face had exploded. It was swollen and unrecognizable, as if he had just come from a whopping.

The Slytherin stared for a moment. No, he thought, shivers running up his spine. Even distorted, Draco could recognize that face anywhere.

Damn it Potter.

He looked at the one on the left.

Even with nine months of separation, terribly messy clothes, and his ginger hair falling past his chin, Draco would be a fool not to recognize Ronald Weasley. The Gryffindor glared at him, spitting a piece of hair out of his mouth.

So if the first was probably Potter, and the second was Weasley, that meant that the third was…..

Draco almost blacked out.

This could not be happening, this has to be a nightmare.

It took an eternity for Draco to turn and look at the final one. He was hoping that they'd all disappear, that he wouldn't have to look at her.

But they didn't disappear. This nightmare was real.

So Draco turned, and stared into the face of Hermione Granger.

Their last meeting flashed through his mind. The guilt on his face, the tears on hers. The anger in her voice and the regret in his.

Choices.

Draco looked at Hermione Granger for the first time in nine months. Her hair was longer, pulled back into a messy ponytail. Her clothes were torn and dirty. Her face was smudged with dirt. There was a cut above her eyes.

Those beautiful brown eyes that he loved so much.

Those eyes looked up and met his.

Draco didn't see the love or hate from their last meeting. All Draco saw was pleading eyes.

She was pleading for their lives.

Draco almost broke on the spot.

"Well, Draco," his father said nervously. "Look who has stumbled across our path."

Draco stood still. He moved his eyes back to his father.

The golden trio was going to die, here in his house. He was going to see her die, right before his eyes.

He couldn't let that happen.

Draco met his father's eye. In his most confused voice, he responded. "Who?"

Bellatrix laughed. "Well, Draco, are you blind? It's Potter, with the blood traitor and the mudblood."

Hatred filled his veins.

Lucius nodded. "Yes. Now, before we call the Dark Lord, we need to be absolutely positive. We can't be wrong…we need to be sure. Draco, they were your classmates for years. You must identify them."

He would never identify them.

Not if they tortured him. Not if they threatened his life. Not if the Dark Lord himself stood before him, demanding their identification.

Never was the new always.

His parents eyed him, and his aunt twiddled her wand.

Draco took a deep breath. They were expecting him to speak. He thought back to all the lies he had told in his lifetime.

He might just be able to do it.

He walked forward and stopped right in front of Potter. The boy who lived eyed him venomously, being sure that he would turn them in.

Draco eyes turned to Hermione for a split second. He had forgotten that she had never told Potter or Weasley about them, and what happened between them.

Draco turned his attention back to Potter. He looked over the chosen one's face. It was obviously him; there was even a slit on his forehead where the scar was hidden.

"Come on, boy!" his aunt shouted. "Is it Potter or not?"

Draco looked at the boy who lived for several seconds before responding. "I don't think it is, maybe."

The shock on all of their faces was evident.

There was silence behind him for a moment.

"Well, what about the ginger? That's the blood traitor, Weasley!" Lucius's nervousness was increasing.

Draco stared at Weasley. "Possibly, but it doesn't look like it."

There was dead silence in the room. Weasley's mouth was gaping at him.

"The mudblood! She's the one on the end! It's Hermione Granger!" his aunt sounded furious.

Draco walked right in front of Hermione. He met her eyes for what felt like an eternity before he responded.

"It's not them."

Draco heard a scream of frustration. Bellatrix was not impressed.

Lucius rushed to his side. Muttering, he said, "Now, Draco. This could change everything. All would be forgiven if we handed him Harry Potter."

Draco stood up straight. He did know that. He didn't care. "It's not them."

No one said a word.

Suddenly, from behind him, his aunt spoke.

"Snatcher, what is that in your hands?"

Draco looked over.

One of the snatchers was holding a sword. It was a long silver sword, with rubies impeded in the hilt.

The snatcher shrugged. "Found it in their tent. Figured it was mine now."

He was cursed before he had a chance to blink. The sword flew out his hands and into Bellatrix's waiting ones.

"This was in my vault at Gringotts!" she screeched. "Out, all of you! Get out!"

The snatchers began to run for the door.

"Wormtail!" Bellatrix screamed. "Bring the boys to the cellar." She advanced on Hermione. "It's time for just us girls to have a chat."

This couldn't be happening.

Potter and Weasel were dragged off to the cellar. Draco could hear them screaming for Hermione.

Inside, Draco was screaming too.

Bellatrix knocked Hermione to the ground. Then, without hesitation, she began to torture the girl that Draco loved more than anything on the Drawing Room floor.

"You filthy mudblood!" A curse was sent at Hermione. She screamed in pain. "You lying thieves!" Another curse hit her, causing her to twitch and moan.

Bellatrix smirked, seeing Hermione's pain. "I've barely started."

She had barely started at all.

Curse after curse was sent at Hermione. The Gryffindor was powerless to stop them. She was trapped in a vicious cycle of screaming and pain. She only moved when she flinched or twitched. Bellatrix laughed. The boys shouted from below.

Draco stood immobile as his insides broke. He was powerless, just like she was. He couldn't save her. He couldn't keep his promise. He had never even given back that book of hers.

Useless. He was useless.

It had been true before, but he had never truly felt it before this moment.

Hermione's ragged screams filled the air. She twitched on the floor, crying, as Bellatrix circled her once more.

"You broke into my vault at Gringotts!"

"No, we didn't! We just found it!" Hermione cried out the words. Draco hadn't heard her voice in so long. It felt like several punches to the gut.

"You lying mudblood!" Bellatrix took out a short silver knife, and advanced on Hermione once more.

The torture continued.

Draco wanted desperately to close his eyes, but he couldn't. He couldn't stop looking at her. For all he knew, he might never see her again after this.

He was right.

Hermione screamed and cried and thrashed. Draco looked on, each curse breaking him into pieces. He stared at her, wishing he could die.

Luckily, Draco got his wish, in less than five minutes time.

Finally, Bellatrix stopped. She took a few steps back, and admired her handiwork.

Hermione lay on the floor. Her eyes were open, with tears spilling out of them. There were gashes across her body, from where the curses had split her skin. On her arm, the word mudblood shone out, written in blood.

Her head moved slightly. Draco stared at her face, and suddenly her eyes met his.

It was only for a brief second. But those eyes, they spoke more words than he could say in a lifetime.

The main ones stood out to him immediately.

_This is what you chose. _

Yes, this is what he had chosen, and he regretted it every day afterwards. But, it was too late to turn back now. There were no more choices. He would just have to live with the consequences.

But in less than three minutes time, he didn't.

Suddenly, a voice sounded through his head. It was her voice. Draco recognized the words immediately.

They were from that night that they had sat at the top of the Astronomy tower.

"_You're making excuses, Draco," _she had murmured_. "There is always a choice. It may not be the easy one, or the smartest one, but there is always a choice. You can save who you want. You can do what you want. People will say you can't. They're wrong. You just have to have enough bravery."_

But he had no bravery. He was a coward, and that fact was proven every day, in every curse he cast, in every death eater meeting he attended.

In every moment he remembered her.

Bellatrix laughed her high, out of control laugh. "Well, mudblood, you've served your purpose. You won't tell us how you got the sword? Fine. We don't need you for anything else. You're disposable, just like all the mudbloods before you."

With that, Bellatrix raised her wand.

Draco froze. He stared forward at Bellatrix's wand. He shouldn't have been surprised, this was to be expected. But Draco was in love. He had a belief in the impossible that no loveless man could understand.

But that illusion was shattered as Bellatrix's wand pointed at the bookworm.

She was going to kill Hermione.

Draco felt his entire world fall to pieces. In that moment, he didn't care about anything or anyone else but the girl on the Drawing Room floor. His parents didn't matter. The death eaters were pointless. The entire planet could explode and he wouldn't care.

There was only Hermione, facing her death. She knew what was coming, she had to. She wasn't stupid, she was the smartest person Draco had ever known. Her time was coming. Her story was at an end. She knew that.

She didn't look her killer in the face, like her companions would. Instead, she chose to look at Draco.

A story popped into Draco's head for a moment, as he stared forward at Hermione. It was a story the Dark Lord told in contempt, but Draco had never truly understood until this moment.

A woman and her husband were at home one night. It was Halloween. They were sitting in their living room, playing a game with their year old son. They were laughing, unknowing of the danger that would soon befall them

Their door exploded. They knew in a second who was there. The Dark Lord had appeared. The man tried to hold him off. The Dark Lord laughed, and killed the man in a moment. The woman ran upstairs with the son, and tried to hide. However, Voldemort followed them.

He just wanted to kill the son, he didn't care about the woman. She wasn't his objective. It was about the boy, it was all about the boy. He told the woman to step aside. But the woman wouldn't leave. She wouldn't abandon her son. She protected him until the end.

The Dark Lord killed her to get to the son. But, he wasn't able to kill that little boy.

When the woman had died, she had cast her life in between the Dark Lord and her son. Her life, and her love, had protected that little boy when the Darkest Wizard of all time had cast the spell. It was a shield, a deep, impenetrable never-ending shield for that boy. It was a shield made of love. The love she felt was so deep and so everlasting that it protected the son for years to come.

But in that moment, in that little house on Halloween, it saved the boy's life.

Draco stared at Hermione, awaiting her death on the Drawing Room floor.

Choices.

And suddenly, he was running.

In a moment, he was standing in between his aunt and Hermione.

Shock filled the faces of everyone in the room. Bellatrix's eyes widened as she realized her wand was now pointing at her nephew's chest.

"If you want to kill her, you'll have to kill me first," he proclaimed.

Gasps filled the room.

"Draco! What are you doing?!" cried his mother. She ran forward to stop him, but Lucius pulled her back. His eyes were hard as he looked at his only son. Draco stared straight back at him.

Bellatrix cocked her head. "You'd die for the mudblood?"

Draco looked death in the face. "In a second."

"Draco…..don't," murmured Hermione's voice from behind him. He didn't turn.

He had made his choice. Finally, he was going to be brave.

His love for Hermione made him brave.

There was no turning back now.

Bellatrix glared at him. Draco saw in her face what she was going to do. He didn't close his eyes.

In his last moment, he looked over his shoulder at Hermione.

She was lying on the ground, staring up at him in wonder and fear.

He hoped she could read in his eyes how much he loved her.

Draco heard his aunt speak the words.

The last thing he ever saw was Hermione's big, brown eyes, wide and frightened.

But most importantly, loving.

His body hit the ground.

Draco Malfoy's seven minutes had begun.

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**Let me know if you guys like the concept, and stuff. Oh yeah, and review :)**

**I've missed this.**


	2. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! Thanks for the reviews and follows and favourites. I'm glad you guys like the concept. **

**A/N on the side-quel following Fate Has Its Ways. (If you didn't read that, just skip this line). It's in the works, and I will begin posting that in about a week. **

**This chapter is a preparation chapter for the main story. It basically just sets up backstory and stuff, that's why it's shorter.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

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Draco Malfoy was born on June 5th, 1980.

His parents were the illustrious Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, from the highest class of purebloods in society.

He was their only child.

Sometimes, Draco would wish for a brother or sister. It was lonely in that big manor, all by himself. He wanted another child to play Quidditch with. His parents barely let him associate with other children, only on occasion at parties. He longed for another child, a friend. If he had a sibling, they would be friends.

But, then Draco thought of families he had heard about, like the Weasleys, with too many children to count. Surely, being an only child was a sign of superiority, because only poor families had a lot of children.

So, Draco grew content with loneliness, in exchange for that feeling of superiority which drove his early years.

Before that first tutoring session with her.

Draco spent his childhood zooming around the countryside on a broomstick. His mother, on occasion, tried to teach him a bit of magic, but he normally refused. He wanted to be in the air, not stuck up in that stuffy old manor.

He was a spoiled child. His mother doted on him. His father bragged about him to others but never acknowledged him at home. Draco didn't realize this though. He thought he was getting everything that he rightfully deserved. Broomsticks, delicious feasts, beautiful robes. Wasn't this what a childhood was supposed to be?

He didn't need his father's love or attention. He didn't need his mother to play a game with him. He didn't need a friend his age. He was fine, with his money and power.

And for a very long time, he believed he was fine.

Draco didn't have the perfect childhood, but at the time, he thought he did. For the selfish little brat that he was, this seemed like the perfect life.

However, there was a time when he realized he was wrong.

The very first time he entered the Great Hall at Hogwarts. With so many smiling faces, from all walks of life, Draco's life philosophy came crashing down. In that moment, he realized his childhood had not been perfect at all.

When Draco's seven minutes came, He barely relived his early life. It was all a blur of money and Quidditch.

No, Draco didn't really live when he was a child, and that's what the seven minutes were trying to show him.

His life.

And for Draco Malfoy, his life truly started when he went to Hogwarts.

On Platform 9 and ¾, at 10:42 on September the first, 1991, he left his childhood behind.

His mother kissed his head and his father shook his hand. Draco smiled at them both. Then, with all the swagger he possessed, he got on the Hogwarts Express for the first time.

He was amazed at everything he saw, from the cozy compartments to the trolley covered with candy. However, he kept his face straight, seemingly above it all.

He walked down the corridor, looking for some of the pureblood children he had mingled with on occasion. They would befriend him immediately. After all, he was a Malfoy.

That was when he saw her for the first time.

A bushy haired girl with two of the largest front teeth Draco had ever seen.

She was walking into all the compartments, asking people if they had seen a toad.

Draco scoffed. If she was looking for a toad, she obviously wasn't worth his time.

He walked past her without introducing himself.

As he was about to step into a compartment in which his childhood acquaintances Crabbe and Goyle were sitting, he looked back.

The bushy-haired girl was standing in a compartment door, speaking to someone.

"I'm Hermione Granger," she said, in a bossy sort of voice.

Hermione Granger, Draco mused. Has to be a mudblood.

With that, he entered the compartment.

Crabbe, Goyle and he went wandering after they had stuffed themselves with candy. There were rumours going around the train that Harry Potter was in one of the neighbouring compartments. Draco had jumped up when he heard. He had heard the stories, they all had heard the stories. Harry Potter. There was a powerful ally. As long as the rumours were true.

And they were.

Potter sat in one of the compartments with one of the million Weasley children. After a brief introduction, Draco stuck out his hand. He knew Potter was new to this whole wizarding business, and he wished to help out the boy who lived. The boy who lived couldn't be consorting with the wrong sort.

But Potter had refused his offer.

Draco had never been more embarrassed in his life. Swearing to make him regret that, he had stormed out of the compartment.

Later that evening, he had been sorted into Slytherin. He had been ecstatic. The house of his forefathers, of purebloods, of power. It was where he belonged.

He had sat down at the long table to thunderous applause. The name Malfoy was known. Keeping the smirk on his face, (the smirk that would soon become his trademark), he looked around and introduced himself to his neighbouring Slytherins. In that moment, at that table, he met some of his best friends for the first time.

Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, and Theodore Nott.

In Draco's first year of Hogwarts, he learned some spells, he was "taught" how to fly, and their Defense against the Dark Arts teacher died. But, reliving it all, the only thing that truly stood out to Draco was his friendships.

People who didn't know better assumed that these people only befriended Draco for power, or out of fear.

However, the first year Slytherins were eternally bonded by the fact that they had never had friends before.

They had all grown up alone. They lived in a world where friendship was viewed as a sign of weakness. They wanted to be weak, but were too afraid to say so. As Draco later admitted, one late night talking to her, being weak with friends was actually more powerful than being strong without them.

In that first year, they were all weak together.

In his second year, the Chamber of Secrets was opened.

However, reliving everything, that didn't affect him too much.

He became a Seeker for the Slytherin team, he called Hermione Granger a mudblood for the first time, and he tried harder in school. He kept up his friendships with his Slytherin gang. He was disgusted by Gilderoy Lockhart. He saw the Vanishing Cabinet for the first time.

In third year, he had fun in Hogsmeade, exploring the joke shop, having butterbeer, and getting hit in the head with snowballs. He hated Lupin, the sorry old bastard who couldn't even afford decent robes. Hermione Granger punched him in the face. He was mangled by a hippogriff.

Fourth year, he saw the Quidditch World Cup. He saw the golden trio running through the woods during the attack afterwards. The Triwizard Tournament happened, letting Potter live through his ginormous ego. He went to the Yule Ball with Pansy, being the first event in what turned into a very complicated relationship. He got turned into a ferret. But of everything that happened that year, by far, the one thing that he truly remembered was the Dark Lord's return.

That was the year everything changed.

His father was immediately brought back into service with the Dark Lord. This made Lucius even less of a father to Draco, and an even worse husband to Narcissa. Draco started being discussed as a potential death eater. At the time, he was excited. All that power, all that strength. It was his destiny.

However, all it took was a bushy haired girl and a transfiguration textbook to change his mind.

He relived going back for fifth year. Dumbledore, old fool, had made him a prefect. His lust for power had overtaken him, even more so when he became a member of the Inquisitorial Squad. He had strutted around the school like he owned it. No one could oppose him. He took points and gave detentions as he pleased. Even Potter held his tongue when Draco was around.

But then his father had been thrown in Azkaban.

And everything changed again.

His life was ruined because of his father's mistakes, though he didn't realize it at the time. The failure of the Department of Mysteries had set Draco on a path that had ended with his death on the Drawing Room floor.

However, when his life was ended at the hands of his aunt, in that moment, he didn't really care.

He may have died far too young.

He may have spent his sixth year in Hogwarts in constant fear, while harming others.

He may have lost his chance at a happy life, with no death and no murder.

But, the path that had sent him towards death had also sent him towards Hermione Granger.

He wouldn't trade that for anything.

His life may have been ruined, but what life did he have anyway? The life of a selfish brat who didn't give a damn about anyone?

That year with Hermione was worth all its consequences.

Draco relived his life with no idea that he was reliving it. It was as if this journey was his first time through.

Yet, his subconscious noticed Hermione Granger a little bit more than he had the first time around.

You notice the foreshadowing when you read a book the second time around.

He noticed as she jammed the Sorting Hat onto her head, it shouting out Gryffindor. He noticed her expression when he called her a mudblood for the first time. He definitely noticed when she punched him in the face. He saw her running through the forest at the Quidditch World Cup, fleeing from the attack on Muggles. He grew her teeth out even more, making her look like a beaver. She entered the Yule Ball on Victor Krum's arm, looking so spectacular that he couldn't even find an insult to throw at her. She stopped her friends from taunting his Inquisitorial Squad powers, causing him to feel the power gushing through his veins.

For five years of his life, Draco had known and hated this girl. They taunted and insulted each other. Draco thought she was a stuck-up mudblood. She thought he was an arrogant bastard.

Draco never thought his opinion of her would change.

But then again, he never thought a lot of things.

In the summer before sixth year, he received his task. At first, he was ecstatic. He would finally receive all the glory and respect he had always thought he deserved.

He pushed it out of his mind that he had to commit murder to receive it.

Reliving the first sixteen years of his life went by in a flash. It was as if Draco was half asleep, stumbling through his life. He didn't relive every single detail. He didn't really care, or at least, when Draco had written his book, he hadn't cared enough to put the details in.

That's because he only truly began to live at the beginning of sixth year.

He only began to live when Hermione Granger entered his life.

Everything before only existed to lead him to a certain place at a certain time.

And that certain place and time was Platform 9 and ¾ at 10:46 on September the first, 1996.

That was when everything truly began.

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**Review my darlings**


	3. Chapter 2

**Hello lovelies!**

**So this week, the side-quel (sequel) for Fate Has Its Ways went up. It's called Love Has Its Ways, so go check that out. Also, if you haven't read Fate Has Its Ways, I'd suggest that. **

**Also, I have a new Dramione in the works, also separate from Fates. This one would be a little less emotional and deep, and would be more light-hearted, dramatic and fun. Let me know if that's something you guys are interested in.**

**Anyway yeah. Thanks for all the reviews. Someone asked a quick question that'll answer here. No, Draco didn't think the Avada Kedavra his aunt cast would rebound. He knew he was going to die. But he also knew that that would cast a shield in between his aunt and Hermione, saving her life.**

**It was the same thing Lily Potter did for Harry. Lily knew she would die. She didn't care, because she loved Harry so much.**

**Here's the next chapter guys.**

**Also, this story has nothing to do with the Fates Universe. It is independent from Fates.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

* * *

Draco Malfoy stood on Platform 9 and ¾ , staring at the clock on one of the banisters. The train left in fourteen minutes. That meant he had fourteen minutes before he had to get on the hunk of muggle metal. He had fourteen minutes to stand aimlessly on the platform.

He had fourteen minutes before his task truly began.

He had one year to complete the job that the Dark Lord had entrusted him to do. He was excited. He was ready. He would regain the glory that his father had lost. The Malfoy name would once again strike terror in the hearts of all who walked the earth. He could do it.

For a moment, he remembered what he actually had to do. He shuddered, then pushed it out of his mind. This was about his reward, not what he had to do to get it.

The reward, he thought giddily. The eternal glory. The power.

Draco smirked. Let the games begin.

He turned on his heel to head onto the train. However, he didn't see the obnoxious head of hair that blocked his way. He crashed into her. The books she was holding went tumbling to the ground.

"Really, Malfoy?" Hermione Granger huffed at him, bending over to pick up her books.

Draco glared at her. The insufferable know it all was back again. He couldn't remember a time when he hadn't hated this damn girl.

She stood up straight.

Draco stared. "I see you got rid of the black eye. Too bad. It made your face easier to look at."

Over the summer, Draco had run into the golden trio in Diagon Alley. Granger had been sporting a spectacular black eye. Draco hadn't stopped laughing. It was glorious.

That was the day they went to Borgin and Burkes for the cabinet. The memory and implications filled his brain. He remembered his task. All that glory.

He couldn't stop himself from smirking.

Granger noticed. "Oh shut up Malfoy, before I punch that smirk off your face, like I did in third year."

Draco's face soured at the memory.

Mudblood rolled her eyes. "Just show up to the Prefects meeting on time. Otherwise you can just stuff it."

Draco stared at her. "I might as well stuff it then. I'm not doing prefects this year."

Granger looked genuinely shocked. "What?"

Draco smirked and began to walk away. Over his shoulder, he shouted, "I've moved on!" Once she was out of range, he muttered to himself, "to greater and more powerful things."

Draco swaggered onto the train, and headed to the compartment where he had dropped his stuff off. In his absence, his Slytherin friends had arrived.

Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. His group. His gang.

In less than two years, all four of them would attend his funeral.

One of them would have their funeral four months after that.

"How was your summer, mate?" Asked Blaise, moving over so Draco could sit next to Pansy.

Draco shrugged.

In all reality his summer had been insane. Lucius had been sent to Azkaban, he had gotten the Dark Mark, become a death eater, and gotten one of the most important tasks in Voldemort's history.

However, it wasn't the right moment to tell his friends that.

Maybe there would never be the right moment.

And in the year that followed, the right moment never arrived.

So, instead, Draco just shrugged.

Pansy opened her mouth. "We were worried, after what happened to your father, if you had a good summer."

There was a dark silence.

Draco didn't let his emotions onto his face. He waited for the dark shadow to pass before speaking.

"Eh, there was more space in the Manor."

Blaise laughed. "There's nothing but space in that Manor. Remember when we got lost on the second floor…"

This led to several amusing stories about the vastness of Draco's childhood home. Draco was glad. The memory of his father's imprisonment was not one he wanted to deal with at the moment.

The train took off from the station a few minutes in. Draco saw people wave at the train from the Platform, but a moment later, they all looked around in terror and left.

Draco smirked. That was the power of the Dark Lord.

Pansy leaned over to him and grabbed his hand. Draco didn't resist. He wasn't quite sure what he and Pansy were. They weren't together, they were labelled as friends. But that didn't stop them from snogging at the back of the dungeon on occasion. Sometimes she liked to act coupley with him, but it didn't bother him, as long as it was gone by their next trip to the dungeons.

After Blaise finished his story, everyone spent a few minutes talking about how their summers went. Pansy spent hers in Paris, at her rich cousin's house. Crabbe and Goyle did nothing. Blaise went on a vacation to Italy.

Draco told the story of seeing the golden trio in Diagon Alley. The others were equally amused at Granger's black eye. They had fun trying to guess how she got it.

"Maybe she tripped and hit her face on a doorknob," Blaise suggested, chuckling.

"Her boyfriend's might've gotten annoyed with her," Pansy laughed.

"She might've gotten punched in the face with a telescope," Crabbe shrugged.

This sent the rest of them into hysterics.

"You are such a dolt," Pansy exclaimed. "A punching telescope?"

Draco was just thinking about the absurdity of Crabbe's statement when he heard movement in the corridor.

He looked up and made eye contact with the Weasel.

He was walking down the hall with Granger. She looked over at them as well.

Draco responded with a rude hand gesture.

Weasel glared at him, and wrapped his arm around Granger's waist, leading her down the hall.

Hmm, Draco thought. He had always laid his money on Potter. Guess Granger was just into gingers.

Pansy had seen the whole exchange. "You know there's a problem when the only girl you can get is Hermione Granger."

Draco scoffed. "You can't really count the Mudblood as a girl, so…"

Blaise guffawed as this. He was still recovering when a knock sounded on the door.

Everyone looked around and shrugged. Blaise leaned forward and opened the door.

In entered a fat Hufflepuff kid. Draco scoffed, and sent him the evil eye.

The kid quivered and held out a piece of paper.

"I…umm…h-h-have a message for…um.. Blaise Zabini."

Blaise reached forward, grabbed the letter and skimmed it. He looked at them.

"Does anyone know who the bloody hell Professor Slughorn is?"

Draco answered. "Old potions professor, retired like twenty years ago. Why?"

"He wants to have tea with me," was Blaise's reply. With that, Blaise stood up and left the compartment.

The Hufflepuff kid was long gone.

Draco shrugged. He kicked his feet out over Blaise's now vacant seat and laid back, with his head in Pansy's lap. She loved this kind of stuff. Letting her stroke his head would allow her to be a bit more fun the next time they met in the Dungeons.

Pansy began to patter on about something, but Draco wasn't listening. His mind had wandered back to his task, and more importantly, how to accomplish that task.

The vanishing cabinet was his first idea. The cabinet itself couldn't kill the old fool, but it could give Draco backup.

If he had backup, he would have no trouble performing the spell.

But, there was always the chance he couldn't be able to fix the it. If that was the case, he could always go old-fashioned.

Poisioned mead, cursed amulet, that sort of thing.

There was that amulet at Borgin and Burkes that he had seen….

Draco's reverie was interrupted by Blaise's return.

Normally, he wouldn't notice if his friend slipped back into the compartment. But Blaise was making the biggest racket he had ever heard.

"What's wrong with this thing?" he said angrily. He was slamming the door continuously, but it wouldn't close.

Something was stopping it.

Draco sat up, slightly intrigued.

Suddenly, the door swung open. Blaise fell back onto Goyle's lap. Goyle pushed him off and those two began snarling at each other.

Draco stared at the door, wondering what had possessed it to act so strangely. However, in the middle of the air, a shoe suddenly appeared. Draco's eyes narrowed. He looked up at the luggage rack, and saw the luggage move the slightest bit.

What the hell?

He blinked, but there was no more movement in the luggage rack. He lowered his eyes. He must have imagined it.

He laid back across Pansy's lap, and questioned Blaise about the new teacher.

He got more annoyed as he listened to Blaise explain about this new club that Slughorn had started. Draco huffed when he realized he wasn't invited. Apparently Slughorn didn't like death eaters.

His father had spoken very highly of the old fool.

It wasn't Lucius' only mistake.

Draco stared a rant on the subject. "Well, who cares what he's interested in? What is he when you come down to it? Just some stupid teacher. I mean, I might not even be at Hogwarts next year, what's it matter to me if some fat old has-been likes me or not?"

The words came out without Draco's permission. He had been thinking them, but had no plans of revealing his feelings to the group.

Pansy stopped stroking his head immediately. "What do you mean, you might not be at Hogwarts next year?"

Draco had two options here. He could laugh it off, and change the subject. This would allow the most secrecy for his position, and ensure that his plan wasn't ruined by bumbling idiots.

Or.

He could tell them a little, ghost over the subject. Give them a sliver of the truth, just enough to strike fear and wonder in their hearts. This could allow Draco to have some help, maybe some watchmen.

Also, Pansy loved when he was bad. Draco thought of their dungeon meetings. Ghosting over the subject could satisfy Draco immensely.

Draco didn't know that he only would have one more rendezvous with Pansy.

After that, a new girl would occupy his time.

Draco let a slight smile appear on his face. "Well, you never know. I might have - er- moved on to bigger and better things."

The reactions were immediate. They knew what he meant. There was only one bigger and better thing when it came to teenage Slytherins.

Crabbe and Goyle gawped at him shamelessly. Blaise's face demonstrated his curiosity. Pansy resumed stroking his hair, looking completely dumbfounded.

"Do you mean – _Him?"_

Oh yes. Those dungeon meetings would be fun.

Draco decided to be completely casual. If he let his racing heart show on his face, he had lost the power. He had lost the help.

"Mother wants me to complete my education, but personally, I don't see it as that important these days. I mean, think about it… when the Dark Lord takes over, is he going to care how many O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s anyone's got? Of course he isn't… it'll be about the kind of service he received, the level of devotion he was shown."

Everyone looked amazed, except Blaise. He was always the questioning one.

"And you think you'll be able to do something for him? Sixteen years old and not even fully qualified yet?"

Draco ignored Blaise's scathing tone. He was probably just jealous.

"I've just said, haven't I? Maybe he doesn't care if I'm qualified. Maybe the job he wants me to do isn't something that you need to be qualified for."

Draco said the last part quietly, more to himself than the others.

Crabbe and Goyle's mouths were opening far beyond the respectful amount. Blaise was eyeing him. After a moment, he gave a small nod, understanding. Blaise always came through.

Pansy was looking at him liked he was God himself.

Yes, this reaction was perfect.

He looked out the window. On the horizon, he saw the twinkling towers and turrets of Hogwarts.

"I can see Hogwarts," he said, pointing. "We'd better get our robes on."

Draco reached up to grab his robes. The others did too. Goyle reached up and grabbed his trunk from the rack. He swung it down, and a noise sounded from the rack.

Draco looked up in confusion for a few seconds.

It had sounded like a gasp. A gasp of pain.

Like someone had gotten hit with a trunk.

The shoe in the air. The blocked door.

Someone was in the luggage rack.

Draco didn't need a guess.

Fucking Potter.

Draco pretended to ignore the noise. He pulled on his robes, and got ready to disembark.

Potter would never know what hit him.

The train pulled to a final stop at the station. Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle left the train. Pansy held out her hand for Draco to take it. He almost retched at the sight.

"You go on," he said instead. "I just want to check something."

Pansy nodded and left. Draco closed the door behind her, and shut the blinds. He didn't want to be expelled.

He walked over to his trunk and opened it, searching for his wand. In a second it was in his fingers.

He flicked it up towards the luggage rack and cried, "Petrificus Totalus!"

Something toppled from the luggage rack. A human shape that landed at Draco's feet. The Cloak, Draco guessed of the Invisibility Variety, that had been hiding him fell off.

Harry Potter was in his grasp.

He couldn't keep the smile off his face.

"I thought so," he said jubilantly. "I heard Goyle's trunk hit you. And I thought I saw something white flash through the air after Zabini came back. That was you blocking the door when Zabini came back in, I suppose?"

Draco stared down at Potter. He had obviously heard their entire conversation after Blaise had gotten back. That didn't matter. Draco thanked Merlin he hadn't revealed anything to the group. Just enough to strike fear and wonder.

"You didn't hear anything I care about, Potter. But while I've got you here…."

He couldn't miss this opportunity.

He stamped on Potter's nose. He felt the crack beneath his foot. Sweet justice.

Draco glared at the so called chosen one.

"That's from my father. Now, let's see…."

Draco picked up the Invisibility Cloak and threw it over the immobile Gryffindor at his feet.

"I don't reckon they'll find you till the train's back in London," he said quietly. "See you around Potter….or not."

Making sure he stepped on the chosen's one fingers, he left the compartment.

He walked down the corridor, relishing in the small victory he had just earned. He disembarked the train, unable to keep the grin off his face. He walked down the path, heading towards the carriages.

While he looked in them all to find Blaise, he heard voices behind him.

"Ron! How could you be so casual! We can't find Harry!"

"Hermione, relax. He probably went ahead, or got pulled aside for some chosen one stuff."

Draco couldn't hold in his laugh.

The Weasel and his mudblood shot him a look.

"Fuck off Malfoy," said the Weasel.

Draco smirked. "I thought you would be happy Potter's away, it gives you two a little more privacy."

Weasel went crimson. Granger's jaw dropped.

"We're not together," she stammered, unable to say anything else.

"I'm not sure Weasel _nose_ that, Granger," Draco replied, emphasizing the word nose just a tad. However, he was surprised. He would've thought these two were making a million Weasley offspring by now.

They were like rabbits.

Draco sauntered away. He could feel Granger's glare on his back. He smiled. Granger's anger always made him happy

But soon, Granger herself would make him feel better than he had in a long time.

Draco walked along the carriages. Finally, he found the one with Pansy, Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle.

Climbing in next to Pansy, he looked back over at the train, still in the station.

See you Potter, he thought.

Turning back to the others, he began to speak.

"Wait until I tell you guys about this…."

* * *

**Review my wonderful readers :)**


	4. Chapter 3

**I am so sorry this is late! I've had an extremely stressful few weeks. I promise I will begin updating this regularly again.**

**In other news, I just started another Dramione story.**

**It's called The Seven Deadly Sins. It's more fun than this or Fate Has Its Ways. It's about how Hermione manages to commit every single deadly sin because of Malfoy. I've been having a lot of fun writing that story. It's going to be really good, I'm sure.**

**So go check that out. Only the prologue is out right now, the first chapter should be going up tomorrow. **

**I now have three stories on the go: this, Love Has Its Ways, and The Seven Deadly Sins.**

**Love Has Its Ways was updated recently, with the scene about the fight at Grimmauld Place the night Hermione disappeared. (If you don't know what I'm talking about, go read Fate Has Its Ways)**

**I'm really excited about life.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

Draco was sitting in the Great Hall about an hour later, eating everything in front of him. He had a lot of issues with Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but no one could deny that the food was superb.

He was just reaching for another potato when the doors slammed open. Draco looked up in confusion. Then he chuckled. Potter was back.

After Draco had arrived, he had told his story to thunderous applause. The idea of the chosen one, immobile and beaten on the train's floor was something all Slytherins enjoyed.

Potter scurried through the Great Hall towards ginger and mudblood, avoiding eye contact with everyone. People around the hall began to notice who had entered. There were even some sad losers at the Hufflepuff table who stood up to look at him.

Draco felt this was an excellent opportunity to tell the story again.

As he got to the part about shattering Potter's nose, Draco saw that he had garnered attention from the Gryffindor table. Granger was giving him an absolutely scathing look. He replied with his trade mark smirk.

Up at the front of the Hall, Dumbledore stood up to begin his speech.

"Welcome students, to another year at Hogwarts!"

The joy he had felt after telling the story disappeared. As the others began listening to Dumbledore, Draco tried not to have a panic attack.

He immediately stared forward. Breath, he told himself. His began levitating his fork in front of him, focusing on the spell to drown out the Headmaster's words.

This was the first time Draco had seen Dumbledore since his task had been assigned. Before this moment, he had been one hundred percent prepared. He was sure he could do it. He had no doubt that this was what he needed to do in order to join the ranks.

But, laying his eyes on the Headmaster had reminded him of what his task actually was. What he really needed to do.

Murder was a bit of a step up from school-yard bullying.

This man had been a part of his life for six years. He had never really liked the supposed greatest wizard in the world, but had always respected him. He was an incredible wizard, no one could deny that.

Seeing him in the flesh made him question if he could complete the task, and more importantly, if he should.

Stop, Draco commanded of himself. He could do this. He had to do this. He knew what would happen if he didn't. The threat had never been explicitly stated, but it hung over his head. He thought of his mother and father.

He took a deep breath.

He needed to do this.

He kept on levitating his fork.

Dumbledore's words broke through to him eventually.

"Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought at the shop called Weasley's Wizard Wheezes."

Draco though of the Peruvian instant darkness powder he had upstairs.

No way was this ban was actually going to work.

"Those wishing to play for their house Quidditch teams should give their names to their Heads of House as usual. We are also looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise."

Draco scoffed. He wouldn't have to do that, nor would he have to tryout. Most people didn't realize it because of damn Potter, but he was actually an incredible seeker. He was the best in Slytherin. No one would replace him

However, Draco thought, would he have to give up Quidditch for his task? Possibly, he decided. But fixing that cabinet couldn't be that hard.

Could it?

"We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year. Professor Slughorn." Dumbledore continued, not realizing what was going through Draco's head. Draco looked over at the new professor. He was fat as a slug, with no hair but spectacular wizard robes on. He reeked of pureblood. Draco smirked. Maybe he could get this new professor on his side after all.

Dumbledore continued.

"He is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions Master."

Draco almost dropped the fork.

_Potions?_

Well that was most certainly unexpected.

The new teacher was the Potions Master? What happened to Snape? Even saying the name sent a flash of rage through Draco. Don't think about it, he reminded himself. He looked at the High Table and caught a glance at the hook nosed bastard before beginning to levitate the fork once again.

If Snape was still here, and not teaching potions, then what was he….

_No._

"Professor Snape, meanwhile," Dumbledore said, raising his voice to carry over all the muttering that had commenced. "Will be taking over the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

No fucking way.

The Slytherin table erupted into cheers. Draco stayed still, levitating the damn fork, trying to drown it out. He heard someone cry No! from another table, but he didn't bother to check who it was.

How in the fuck did the slimy douschebag manage to pull this off?

Draco clenched his fingers as he allowed himself to truly think about Snape. His godfather, his mentor of five years, was now nothing but a bastard in his mind. A two timing bastard. Draco didn't believe that Snape was truly loyal to the Dark Lord like he was. Otherwise, he would've been at the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. He would've fought with the Death Eaters. Maybe they would've won.

Maybe his father wouldn't be decaying in Azkaban at this exact moment.

Draco shot Snape a look of pure hatred, and was surprised to see the ex-potions master eyeing him with a stone face. Draco looked away immediately, not wanting to look at the man. He hated him. His father's imprisonment was the bastards' fault. That was unforgivable. Because of that, the Malfoy name was disgraced with the light and the dark, and he had been given his task.

He let his fear take over for a moment before shoving it back down.

Dumbledore kept talking. "Now, as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining in strength."

Draco kept levitating the fork, trying desperately to drown out the old man's words. He kept his face as mask, unwilling to betray the fact that he was now a follower.

He wasn't too sure about the gaining strength part.

"I cannot emphasise strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain safe. The castle's magical fortifications have been strengthened over the summer, we are protected in new and more powerful ways, but we must still guard scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you, therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that your teachers might impose upon you, however irksome you might find them – in particular, the rule that you are not to be out of bed after hours. I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and each other's safety."

Draco thought about the Headmaster's words. These new restrictions would make his task far more difficult. Who was he kidding? It would be difficult even if there were no restrictions. It was Dumbledore, after all. Now that all staff and students were looking out for anything suspicious, he would have to be one hundred times more inconspicuous. He knew he could do this.

He took a deep breath and lowered his fork, just as the professor was finishing up his speech.

"But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow." Fat chance. "Let us therefore say goodnight. Pip pip!"

Draco stood up from the bench and began walking towards the door, not once looking back.

Blaise rushed up to his side, and muttered in his ear. "Potter's behind us."

Draco smiled. Looking around at his fellow Slytherins, he shouted.

"Who wants to hear about how I broke Potter's nose one more time?"

* * *

During his seven minutes, his first month at Hogwarts seemed to be a blur more than anything else. There were new lessons to attend, new people to avoid and new people to taunt. He started Quidditch training again, keeping his position as Slytherin Seeker. He sat at the back of the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom, avoiding contact with Snape at all costs. He tried to get in Slughorn's favour, which evidently didn't really work. He watched Potter excel at Potions, and win the coveted Felix Felicis potion that he had wanted so badly.

In this day and age, one lucky day could change everything.

During his first month, he spent almost every evening in the Room of Requirement, trying to fix that blasted old cabinet. It was proving much more difficult than he ever thought. It was stressing him out to the point where meeting Pansy in the dungeon couldn't calm him down. He met her once, but then worked on the cabinet almost every other night. He tried everything, but nothing seemed to work.

Therefore, he started working on plan B.

One night, he discovered a passageway out of Hogwarts in the Room of Requirement. There was no way this one was being monitored, so he took a chance. It led him straight to the Hog's Head. During the night, while the old bartender was asleep, Draco snuck out. He wore a dark travelling clock. It was still September, so there was no snow to reflect light. In Hogsmeade, he was completely covered by shadow.

He had snuck into the Three Broomsticks and found Madam Rosmerta. The witch had forgotten to set her alarms that night. It made Draco think that maybe he had earned that lucky day after all. She was asleep in her bed. Within seconds, Draco had her under the Imperius curse.

Perfect. Plan B was started.

However, all this work on his task was taking its toll on his schoolwork. He was failing Transfiguration, Charms, and Arithmancy. He was barely scrapping by in DADA and potions. He never completed his homework, and failed to actually listen during class, given that his mind was obsessed with that damn cabinet.

Therefore, he wasn't at all surprised when McGonagall summoned him to her office.

During his seven minutes, this moment stopped the blur.

Looking back, this moment changed everything.

Draco stood in front of McGonagall's death. She was eyeing him with one eyebrow raised. He responded by letting his features show how snarky he felt.

"Mr. Malfoy, I assume you know you are failing this class."

He shrugged. The Professor huffed.

"I will not allow you to stay in the class if that is your reaction."

He shrugged again. McGonagall opened a folder on her desk.

"I can see that you are failing two of your other courses, and scraping by in the others. This is simply not acceptable."

"Do you honestly think I care, Professor?"

McGonagall stood up, which immediately reminded Draco that she was one of the most intimidating women he had ever met.

"Mr. Malfoy," she said in a voice that sent fear through him. "I do not care if you care. I do not care if you are failing other courses. I do not care if you do your homework for potions, or finish an essay for Arithmancy. I care if you come into my classroom every day and do not do a single thing."

She glared at him. The sour bitch probably needed her students to pass so she could get a bonus.

"I do not think your mark reflects your actual state of intelligence. Last year you were second in your year. You are an extremely intelligent and resourceful young man. So show it."

She sat back down.

"I understand that you are under an extraordinary amount of pressure, Mr. Malfoy. What with your father in Azkaban…." His eyes flared here but she didn't seem to notice. "That must not be easy to deal with, but that does not mean that you should give up on school. Education is one of the most powerful tools we have. Use it."

Draco was struck by her words and the look she was giving him.

"You have the capacity to succeed tremendously in this course. However, it is school policy that when a student begins to fail, they must be assigned a tutor."

Draco's eyebrows shot up. A tutor?

He didn't try to hide the annoyance he felt.

"Fine, Professor. Blaise can teach me Transfiguration if that's what must be done to secure your end of year bonus."

McGonagall raised her eyebrows. "Do not think for a moment that this is about me, Mr. Malfoy. This is about you, and your education."

He scoffed. Right.

"And, though Mr. Zabini is extremely gifted, I have already secured you a tutor."

Draco's jaw hit the floor.

"What?!"

The uptight bitch nodded. "She is one of the most intelligent students I have ever met. If she can't teach you, no one will be able to. She should be here any moment."

Draco's eyes narrowed. She?

Oh fuck.

The classroom doors opened.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?"

Hermione fucking Granger.

She walked up to the desk, and Draco looked at her. Her goddamn bushy hair and perfectly straight uniform. His veins filled with pure hatred.

McGonagall must be trying to kill him.

Granger eyed him strangely, before turning to McGonagall.

"Hello Hermione," she said, smiling. Granger was such a teacher's pet even the biggest bitch in the world smiled at her. "I have called you here because I have a job for you."

"Alright," the Gryffindor princess answered slowly.

McGonagall gestured to Draco. "Mr. Malfoy here has not been succeeding in transfiguration as of late. By school policy, we must assign him a tutor."

"Ok…" Granger replied, confused. "What does that have to do with me?

Draco almost laughed. She was so dense.

McGonagall sighed. "I have assigned you to be Draco's new tutor."

There was a beat of pure silence.

Then…

"What?!"

"Believe me, Granger. I'm not thrilled either," he said swiftly.

Granger turned to McGonagall, her eyes desperate. "Please, Professor, don't make me do this! I can't tutor that pompous prat!"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Like I want to be tutored by mudblood scum."

"Mr. Malfoy!" cried McGonagall, reproachful. Granger glared at him, her cheeks red with anger.

"I'd rather die than spend five minutes with you, ferret."

Draco took a step towards her, and glared down at her smaller form. "Oh please, would you just?"

"Oh can it, you bastard!"

"Ms. Granger!" cried McGongall once more.

"At least my existence isn't an abomination, Granger. What happened with you? Did the condom break?"

He heard McGonagall gasp. Granger's eyes narrowed.

"Well, at least my parents love me. And aren't convicted felons."

"Don't talk about things you don't understand, mudblood," Draco threatened.

"Don't talk about me then, Malfoy," she responded spitefully.

"I know you're nothing but a mudblood."

"Better a mudblood than a Death Eater."

There was silence then. Granger's words hung over the room like a curtain. Draco couldn't find words to respond. Did she know?

Doubtful, she probably said that to all Slytherins.

He narrowed his eyes at her, trying to hide the fact that her words had struck home.

McGonagall stood up. Her voice was shaking. "I never want to hear language like that in this class from either of you. This is non-negotiable. Ms. Granger, you will tutor Mr. Malfoy in the library twice a week. Mr. Malfoy, you will attend these meetings or so help me merlin I will get you there myself, using any means possible."

They both began to argue again, but McGonagall cut them off.

"Non-negotiable. You may leave now."

They both turned on the heel and stormed out.

"Fuck," Granger muttered as they exited the classroom.

"My sentiments exactly," replied Draco.

A slight smile appeared on her face before she wiped it away.

They stared at each other for a moment.

"I'm not happy about this, Granger," said Draco.

"And you honestly think I am?" she snapped.

Draco shrugged. "Most women would kill to spend time with me."

She narrowed her eyes. "Well, Malfoy, I am not like most women."

"Well, obviously. You are more like a beaver with those damn teeth."

She flushed.

"But," Draco continued. "I have no wish for McGonagall to kill me. I would like to survive sixth year, thank you very much." There was more truth to those words than anyone would ever know.

She huffed. "Tuesday after dinner in the library?"

"I'm dreading it," he replied.

Granger looked at him. "We tell no one."

Draco nodded. That was a given.

"Tuesday," she said.

Draco looked at her. "I would rather be anywhere else."

"I know," Granger replied. "But you won't be."

With this, she turned on her heel and headed off.

Draco ran a hand through his hair, and headed back to the Common Room, wanting some normalcy.

It was doubtful he would get any.

Hermione Granger was now a part of his life.

What was less normal than that?

Given that this was his second time through, one final sentence slipped into his thoughts.

And what could be more extraordinary?

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	5. Chapter 4

**New chapter came fast this time.**

**I'm on top of my game. **

**In other news, I got tumblr. I know, I should've got it years ago, but I didn't. (silly me.) Anyway, follow me. loveandharrypotter . tumblr . com without the spaces.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

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Draco sat at the Slytherin table for dinner on that Tuesday evening in late September. He was eating at the speed of a snail, hoping he could delay his tutoring session with Granger for, well, ever.

He had been in a sour mood for days, in anticipation of that evening. He was not looking forward to spending excess time with the bloody bookworm. He'd rather die.

Foreshadowing is a little bit of a bitch sometimes.

Eventually, Draco was the only one left eating at the table. He looked up and saw McGonagall glaring at him from her place at the High Table. She could do whatever she wanted to him if he didn't go. Since Dumbledore was gone, she was the stand-in Headmistress.

He never thought he'd wish for Dumbledore to come back.

He knew McGonagall didn't believe in human transfiguration as punishment, but the look on her face was as clear as day. Draco didn't particularly want to be a ferret again.

He pulled himself up from the table, and slowing began trekking to the second floor. He passed through corridors and climbed up staircases. He ended up at the library doors twenty minutes later, and with a dramatic sigh, he pushed them open.

He lumbered through the library, looking around the shelves for Granger. Eventually he found her at a table near the back. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, and her robes dishevelled. She was pouring over an old and dusty book while biting on a pencil.

She heard him approaching and looked up. Draco saw the brief surprise in her eyes.

"Didn't think I was going to show, did you Granger?" he smirked, falling into a chair at her table. She gave him a look.

"Not really," she replied honestly. "I assumed you'd be too busy shagging Parkinson or something."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Is that all you think I do with my free time?"

She bit down on her pencil and began to read from the book again. "You are failing."

"Because I don't give a fuck, not because too many fucks are given."

She laughed at this. It was a nice laugh, he noticed. Like twinkling bells.

His mind screeched to a halt as he tried to dispel the thought. Nothing about Granger was nice.

Nothing.

However, this was the first moment he realized he was maybe a bit wrong on that point.

"Well, mudblood, what are we studying today?" he asked sarcastically.

She glared at him. "Nothing if you don't stop calling me that, ferret."

"Did I hurt your precious mudblood feelings?"

"You might want to shut up, now," she hissed.

"Don't blame me for saying the truth," he responded spitefully.

Granger leaned towards him. "The truth? You want to hear the truth? The truth is that I beat you in every course. The truth is that I am the top in our year. The truth is that I battled death eaters last summer and won. The truth is that I was a part of the same battle as your father was. I got glory. He got arrested. So you better stop calling me that unless you want to follow in his footsteps." She said all of this so menacingly that Draco was shocked into silence.

He'd forgotten how much spunk she had.

She sat back up straight and looked over at him.

"Did you bring your book?" she asked.

He gave her a look, trying to keep an extraordinary amount of malice out of his voice. "Granger, does it look like I even read the school list?"

She rolled her eyes. She reached over and grabbed a book from her schoolbag. She pushed it across the table to him.

"You can have mine."

"Don't you need it?"

She didn't answer.

"Please don't tell me you memorized the textbook, Granger," he said disbelievingly.

She blushed a tad and ignored his comment.

Of course she did.

"Well then, Malfoy, why don't we get started?"

Draco gave her a look.

"Ok, mud..Granger."

She smirked slightly at his comment.

Bitch.

She then began to teach him transfiguration.

About an hour in, Draco was beginning to actually understand something.

"So the principle of intermagnetic transfiguration is based on the underlining charge between the two items?"

"Yes, exactly," Granger said, nodding.

"I might actually pass the test next week," he said, more to himself than to her.

"You'd better," Granger muttered.

He gave her a look. "How does it affect you?"

She looked over at him and sighed. "Your mark reflects back on me, Malfoy. I'm tutoring you, remember?"

He glared at her. "Right, and you're so damn perfect that after spending an hour with me, I should be too? Right?"

She looked at him, but didn't respond.

Draco was so done with her attitude.

"You are so damn condescending, you know that Granger?"

"Excuse me?" she responded.

"Yeah," Draco continued. He was on a roll now. "You with your perfect marks and perfect friends and perfect life. If you could do it, everyone else should've been able to as well, right? We all should be able to get Os on every assignement, and be loved by each teacher in the building. We all should be able to befriend the fucking chosen one, and follow him around on adventures. We all should be able to get into battles and still have time to hand in a potions essay. And if we can't do all that, then we must be inferior, right Granger? Isn't that how your perfect little head works?"

There was almost a full minute of silence.

"I'm not perfect," she said slowly. She had paled a tad since the beginning of his monologue

"Cut the crap, Granger," he replied, brushing her aside.

"No I'm not," she said again. Words began spilling out of her mouth. "I'm nowhere near perfect. I'm rude, and arrogant. I'm condescending. I care more about my grades than anything. Do you realize how unhealthy that is? I only have two really good friends, everyone else simply tolerates me because of Harry. If I didn't have him, I'd probably be alone. That's terrifying, to have all your happiness rely on one person. If I didn't have him, no one would say I was perfect either. I wouldn't be called the Gryffindor Princess. I'd be called out on all my shit. No one tells me the truth because of the protection of Harry. Well, except you. You don't give a damn. You just say it how it is."

She stared forward at the table, and didn't say another word.

Draco stared at her, disbelievingly. Had Hermione Granger just admitted all of that to him?

"We should study some more," she muttered.

Draco nodded. Granger took a deep breath and leaned forward. She pointed at the book and began to talk to him about some other Transfiguration type thing.

She tutored him for another few hours. They didn't say any other words to each other that weren't directly related to Transfiguration.

Eventually, she stopped explaining a concept, and looked up.

"It must almost be curfew, we've been in here for hours," she said.

Draco nodded. He closed the transfiguration textbook and began to hand it back to her. She shook her head and pushed it back at him. He put it on the table.

"I did memorize the textbook," she muttered, refusing to look at him.

"Merlin, Granger, what do you do during the summer?"

"At least I didn't have to attend my father's death eater trial," she snapped.

There was a beat of pure silence.

Draco stood up and began to storm towards the door.

"Wait, Malfoy!" Granger cried, tripping over herself to come after it.

Draco turned and glared at her.

"What, mudblood?"

She flinched at his word choice.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have said that. It was far over the line, and completely rude."

"Well, Granger, when have you ever cared what was rude or not?" he responded. "You're rude, arrogant and condescending, remember?"

He turned on his heel and left the library.

"Malfoy, slow down!" she came stumbling after him into the corridor.

"Granger, just fuck off already," he snarled, not slowing down in the slightest.

"Damn it Malfoy, just stop!" she shouted.

He stopped.

Turning around, he faced the so called Gryffindor Princess.

She took a few steps towards him.

"Sometimes I say things without thinking about them. And because of Harry, no will call me out on how terrible they are. But you did. You stormed out. I appreciate that. And, please accept my apology. I shouldn't have said anything like that. I like to read books, and I hate getting teased about it. But that's no excuse."

She looked so genuinely apologetic that Draco wanted to slap her.

He huffed. "Fine, Granger. You are forgiven. Be warned however, that if you ever mention my father again, I will not hesitate to kill you."

She nodded, relieved.

She reached into her bag and pulled out the Transfiguration textbook.

"You left this in there," she said softly, handing it back to him.

Their fingers brushed slightly as he took the book.

She looked at him. "Same time, Thursday?"

He nodded.

"Alright," she finished awkwardly. "Bye, Malfoy." She turned down a corridor that headed back to Gryffindor tower.

"Hey, Granger!" he shouted without really thinking about it. She turned and looked back.

"What, Malfoy?" she asked.

"I let my happiness rely on one person, too." She raised an eyebrow.

"Who?"

"Myself," he said simply. "You should try it sometime."

She smirked. "I should let my happiness rely on you, Malfoy?"

He shrugged. "Stranger things have happened."

She smiled. "Goodnight Malfoy."

"Goodnight, Granger."

They had no idea how true those statements would be.

Draco began heading to his destination. He mind was still lingering at the library.

He had managed to spend several hours with Granger without killing her or being murdered. They had talked, they had joked, and he had forgiven her for something. She had lent him a book, and probably saved his Transfiguration mark. She had laughed. He had smirked. They had argued.

He felt like the time they had spent together was like swinging on a pendulum. They were getting along, they were arguing, they were laughing, they were threatening.

Draco climbed up a staircase.

Hermione Granger had admitted to him that she wasn't perfect. She had admitted that she had flaws. She had realized that her chosen one boyfriend was the reason she was treated the way she was. She realized she was protected. She understood that she wasn't superior, only acted like it.

He had actually spoken to Hermione Granger. Really, truly talked to her.

And he had never been more confused in his life.

He arrived at the Seventh Floor Corridor. He looked around, making sure he was alone.

_I need the room of Hidden Things._

A door appeared in the wall. He reached forward and grabbed the handle. He slipped inside the room.

He walked through the stacks and piles of forgotten things. It was incredible how many Hogwarts students had hidden their stuff in this room and never found it again. Hogwarts itself hid things in here, like a giant chest piece.

Oh, the Room of Requirement.

He had discovered the room last year when the Inquisitorial Squad had caught Dumbledore's Army practicing. A few weeks later, he had needed to hide some booze and had come across it again. He knew it wasn't a coincidence.

Then, Montague had reappeared in the toilet the year previously. He had been missing for a while. Draco had found him, and the Slytherin Chaser had explained to him that he had been stuck in the cabinet, and stuck between Hogwarts and Borgin and Burkes.

Draco had figured the rest out on his own.

He had moved the cabinet, using his own personal house-elves, into the room of hidden things before the summer had come. He had a huge advantage with a vanishing cabinet. He knew he'd need it to be a secret one day.

Boy, had he been right.

It seemed too simple.

Draco arrived at the cabinet.

All he needed to do was fix the damn cabinet, and his task would basically be complete. All he would have to do afterwards was…..well, finish the job.

So, he tried to fix the cabinet.

However, for someone who knew basically nothing about magical furniture, that task proved to be quite difficult.

Had the spell worn off?

Was the connection severed?

He didn't know the answer. He didn't know how the cabinet was broken. So, he was using guess and check to solve the problem.

Guess and check was not proving to be very helpful.

So, an hour later, Draco left the Room, unsuccessful, just like he had every day since the beginning of September.

He stormed into the Slytherin common room a little bit past midnight. Blaise was still up, reading by the fire. He looked over as Draco came in. He raised an eyebrow, questioning, but Draco just shook his head and went to bed.

Blaise would always remember that moment as a turning point for his friend. In two years' time, he would get to ask Hermione if she knew what had happened that day. Then, she would get to explain to Blaise the concept of happiness, and how it had changed both her and Draco.

Because that night, as Draco was trying to sleep, he thought about what Hermione Granger had said about happiness.

Her happiness relied on one single human being, she had said it herself. A human being who wasn't her. She put all her faith in another person, and prayed that things would work out.

So many people did that, Draco had thought that night. Pure happiness had become so twisted and morphed in the world that people thought that every single thing in your life had to be perfect for you to be happy. However, the chances of that happening were so low that very few people considered themselves completely happy anymore. Instead of taking responsibility for their own happiness, they put the responsibility on a friend's, lover's, parent's or someone else's shoulders. That way, when something went wrong, they had someone to blame.

That was bullshit, Draco decided. He was the only one who could make himself happy. It was his responsibility. It was his choice. It didn't matter how many things were going right or wrong in his life. Happiness was his right. It was his choice. It came from himself, and him alone.

That was the first time of many that Draco Malfoy would think about Hermione Granger and choices.

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	6. Chapter 5

**I know I'm the devil. I'm really sorry. These past few weeks have been absolutely crazy, but I'm back now. Expect Love Has Its Ways and Seven Deadly Sins to be updated soon as well.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

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Over the next week Draco met Hermione two more times. They didn't talk about anything but Transfiguration. He sat down at her table, and she taught him for two hours. Then they left. They didn't tell anyone where they had been, and they never brought it up outside of the library.

It was a good system, given that they still hated each other.

Draco's mark in Transfiguration was improving steadily. In class, he began to understand concepts. Once, when McGonagall called on him, he knew the right answer. She had nodded approvingly, then moved on to the next part of the lesson.

They were now into the first week of October 1996.

Draco's time was completely used up. When he wasn't in class, he was getting tutored, or working on the cabinet.

He was getting nowhere on his task. He spent hours into the night working on that blasted cabinet, but he was just as far from finding the answer as he was in June.

And everybody seemed to know it.

About a week and a half after his first tutoring session with Hermione, Draco received news.

He was walking down the seventh floor corridor when the owl arrived. It was a majestic owl, tawny brown. Attached to his leg was a letter. _Draco Malfoy_ was written on it in an elegant scrawl.

He recognized it immediately as his mother's handwriting.

He ripped the letter off of the owl's leg. It ruffled its feathers, and took off immediately. Draco watched it fly away.

He opened the letter with shaking hands. His mother hardly ever sent him messages.

Something must have gone wrong.

_My dearest Draco,_

_He is displeased. He has given you the year for your project, but has hopes that you would finish sooner than later. He has been making his displeasure very clear lately. _

_Work hard, my boy. Go to Severus for guidance. _

_You know what is at stake. You know who is at risk._

_Good luck._

_-Narcissa_

That was all that was written. Narcissa couldn't risk writing anything else.

Draco stared at the letter without moving for several minutes. His heart was pounding. He felt tears sliding down his face. He took a deep breath. He needed to calm down. He couldn't cry. Malfoys never cried.

He was displeased. The Dark Lord was displeased. And he's been making it clear. That could mean anything: torture, imprisonment, threats, danger. No matter what it meant, his mother was on the receiving end.

If he succeeded in his task, he would get never ending glory, a place in the ranks, and power. However, if he failed, the consequences would be too terrible to think of.

It had never been completely stated, but he knew. The Dark Lord didn't let failures go unpunished. And if Draco failed, he wouldn't be the only one to feel the wrath.

He saw his mother in his mind. The only person who had always cared about him. The person he loved the most in the world. In his mind, a green light flashed and she fell to the ground.

Draco was no seer, but he knew this was a possibility in his future. If he failed, his mother would die. He would die too, but that didn't matter. Narcissa was innocent. She was a decent human being, and did not deserve this fate.

Draco sunk to the ground. He couldn't help the tears the shook his body. It was too much. He was sixteen years old for fuck's sake. He couldn't have his mother die. He couldn't have it be because of him.

Was the opportunity worth it? Was the chance of success worth the price of failure?

He didn't know.

That was the ultimate question in life: what was worth it, and what wasn't. Everyone needed to make sacrifices or takes risks to gain something. There was always a balance; the scales demanded it. You could achieve your wildest dreams, but you could lose everything as well. And which road you went down, failure or success, that depended on so many factors. Skill. Intelligence.

But above all, luck.

Draco thought about his task. It all depended on luck. Dumbledore needed to slip. Draco needed to have a breakthrough. A sign needed to fall from the sky. The answer had to click into place.

Otherwise, Voldemort would kill his family.

And him thereafter.

Draco buried his face in his arms. He let the sobs shake him. He gave himself a minute for weakness. After that, he needed to be strong.

His mother's life depended on it.

Sixty seconds.

He let his fear overtake him. It was the fear he had been supressing for weeks. It flooded his mind. He drowned it in, not letting himself surface.

Fifty.

The task was nearly impossible. How could he expect to kill one of the world's greatest wizards? The man could have him incapacitated in less than a minute.

Forty.

That was probably the point. The Dark Lord didn't want him to succeed. He wanted him to fail so that he could punish Lucius for his failures.

Thirty.

Draco felt the reality of the situation overtake him. He wasn't meant to succeed. He was simply a tool. His imminent failure was just the excuse the Dark Lord needed to kill his entire family. To kill off the Malfoys.

Twenty.

The Malfoys. For years, they had been the elite of the wizarding world's population. They had power, prestige, and extraordinary wealth. Everyone knew who they were. Everyone was scared of them. Everyone respected them. And yet, they had lost it all. They were dirt now, shamed eternally in the eyes of the wizarding world and the Dark Lord himself. It was up to Draco to save their legacy. Yet, he would probably fail, and everything would be lost.

Ten.

For the last ten seconds of his minute, Draco let sobs rack his body.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

"Malfoy?"

He recognized the voice immediately.

He looked up, trying desperately to stop his free flowing tears.

Out of the shadows walked Hermione Granger.

She had her wand in one hand. She was dressed in her school robes, with her long brown hair surrounding her head like a lion's mane.

She looked him over with obvious concern and confusion. She brushed her hair out of her face, her fingers lingering in her tendrils a few moments more.

"Malfoy?" she asked tentatively. "What are you doing?"

He fought to get a sneer on his face. "What do you think, Granger?"

She took a few steps forward. "I think you're crying alone in an empty corridor. But Malfoy's don't cry, do they? So I don't know…."

Draco's anger flared. "A Malfoy. I'm a Malfoy, right?" He snapped.

She looked confused. "Well, yes, it is your name….."

He snarled and got up from the floor. She backed up a few paces.

"My name? My bloody name has nothing to do with me! A rose by any other name would smell as sweet, or something like that. Being a Malfoy has nothing to do with who I am."

She stared wide eyed. "Did you just quote Shakespeare?"

Draco was getting angrier by the second.

"Shut up, you mudblood!"

She flinched, but responded with anger. "Well, _Malfoy, _your name has everything to do with who you are!"

"How the fuck would you know?"

"Because you let it define you! You gloat about being a Malfoy, you follow the code of the name, and you join the family business! You are ruled by pure-blooded supremacy. How can you say names don't matter? You've been judging me on mine for years."

Draco glared at her. "I've been judging you on your blood, Granger, not your fucking name."

"What difference does it make?" she replied defiantly. "You based your perception of me based on something I can't control, on something I didn't choose. My name, my blood, they don't matter. They have nothing to do with who I am. My personality, my heart, my soul, those aren't based in blood or name. How can you demand to have your name ignored when you judge muggleborns on their family? It's the same concept. We can't choose our heritage."

Draco was shocked. He could barely respond. "It's not the fucking same at all."

Granger almost hissed. "It's exactly the fucking same. Beyond that, you live up to your tainted name spectacularly. It is all you are. You let yourself be taken over by it. You don't let being a Malfoy define you? What about your whores? Your bigotry? The fact that you're a death eater?

Her accusation rang through the hall.

Next thing he knew, he had Granger shoved up against the wall.

"Don't you ever talk to me like that again, you mudblood bitch," he threatened in a low voice. "You do not know anything about me."

Suddenly, he felt himself flying backwards several metres.

She stood at the wall with her wand pointed at him. She was shaking slightly.

"Fuck you Malfoy," she said. Her voice was low and dangerous. "Don't come near me. Don't talk to me. Fail Transfiguration. I've had enough of you. Get out of my life."

That would never happen for the rest of Draco's days.

In that moment, Draco's hatred for Hermione Granger reached its peak. He watched her turn on her heel and stomp off.

"Gladly!" he shouted after her.

Draco didn't go to the cabinet that night. He sped right back to the Slytherin Common Room. Blaise and the others tried to call him over, but he ignored them. He stormed up to his dormitory and got a piece of parchment.

Voldemort didn't think he was going to succeed? Well, Draco was always one for exceeding expectations.

Granger thought he let his name define him? Fine. He'd let his name define him all the way to glory.

The cabinet wasn't working.

It was time for a new approach.

Taking out a quill, he began.

_To Mr. Borgin,_

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The week that followed was difficult. Draco's temper was always at a breaking point. He isolated himself from Blaise and Pansy, though the latter was continuously trying to drag him to the dungeons. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He sat in his dormitory every night anxiously awaiting a return to his letter.

His marks fell tremendously. He didn't care that much in the majority of his classes, so he simply stopped doing the work.

Transfiguration was the bane of his existence. Without Granger as a tutor, he could barely understand the language McGonagall was speaking let alone the course. He stopped handing in assignments.

Granger blatantly ignored him in the halls. She'd walk by with Weasel and Potter, and stare determinedly somewhere else. Weasel and Potter hadn't tried attacking him yet, so he assumed she hadn't told them what had happened.

Good. He didn't feel like dealing with her knights in shining armor.

About a week after he sent that letter to Borgin, he got a reply.

He was sitting down at the boathouse, trying to avoid everyone, when the owl flew in.

He ripped the letter of the barn owl's leg and opened it hastily.

Borgin finally wrote back.

_Mr Malfoy,_

_I have received your request, and I am here to serve. _

_Below the stone is your answer._

_Your servant,_

_Borgin_

Draco smirked.

Wonderful.

He jumped up from his spot in the boathouse and began racing up the steps to the castle. He rushed through the great hall and up the staircases to the seventh floor. He slipped into the room of requirement secretly.

_I need a way out of Hogwarts._

The passageway with the portrait of the girl appeared. He opened the portrait hole, and scampered down the passageway.

Ten minutes later, he was at the entrance to the Hog's Head. He opened the portrait slightly, but there was no sign of anyone. The lights were off.

He slipped out of the passageway and out of the tavern. Slinking down the streets, he exited Hogsmeade and headed towards the shrieking shack.

Over the summer, when Draco and Borgin had discussed Draco needing any objects, they had agreed to hide all passable objects under a stone. The stone was just outside the shrieking shack, and therefore it was unlikely anyone else would find the objects.

Draco arrived at the stone, and lifted it up. It had been enchanted so that it could hide objects much larger than its size.

Beneath it was a package.

He picked up the package gingerly, and replaced the stone. He began to head back towards the village.

He summoned Madam Rosmerta to the edge of the village. When she arrived, her eyes were glazed over. That's what the Imperius Curse did.

He handed her the package. "On the Hogsmeade visit this weekend, give this package to one of the female Gryffindor students. Put her under the curse. Tell her she must get it to Dumbledore."

"Yes, m'lord," Madam Rosemrta mumbled.

Draco smirked. He turned on his heel, and began to head back to the castle.

He could've just taken the necklace with him, he knew that. But, he had a new goal in mind.

Getting back at Granger.

Madam Rosmerta would give the necklace to one of her classmates, maybe even her. How would she feel when she discovered the so called great house of Gryffindor assisted him in the Dark Lord's duty.

She wouldn't be so superior anymore.

Draco snuck back into the Hog's Head and began his trek down the passageway. He nearly skipped out of the room of requirement.

The plan was working. Dumbledore would be disposed of, and Granger would be ruined when she found out that her own house helped out.

Draco entered the Slytherin Common happier than he had been for a while. When Blaise and Pansy called him over to the fireplace, he actually listened.

He slumped down in one of the green armchairs. Blaise and Pansy exchanged a look that Draco didn't miss.

"Something interesting?" he asked.

Blaise shrugged. "Just a little surprised that the elusive Draco Malfoy has decided to grace us with his presence."

Draco smirked. "Consider it an honour."

Blaise laughed. "Care for a game of exploding snap?"

"You're on."

Draco would never admit it, but he had missed his friends this past week. Sitting there in the common room, Pansy on the arm of his chair, beating Blaise at exploding snap, he felt at home.

After Blaise had graciously admitted defeat, he headed upstairs to sleep. This left Pansy and Draco alone.

She turned to him with a look on her face that he recognized easily.

Usually, he would have picked her up and had his way with her. However, a voice echoed in his head.

_**You don't let being a Malfoy define you? What about your whores? Your bigotry? The fact that you're a death eater?**_

Without looking at Pansy, he stood up and walked up to his dormitory.

He lay in bed that night thinking about what Granger had said to him a week before.

He wanted so badly not to be defined by his name. Everyone else saw him that way; a Malfoy and nothing else. But was Granger right? Did **he** let his name define him: how he acted and what he did with his life?

He did act like a Malfoy. He bullied mudbloods because he knew he could get away with it. He had Pansy at his disposal, never wondering what she wanted from him. And he was a death eater, the mark on his arm proved it.

He knew he wasn't a good person, but the real question was why. Was he like this because he let himself be defined by his name? Or was it just how he was?

Did he fall into the trappings of the Malfoy name because he was a Malfoy? Did he have Pansy, did he bully, did he join the most evil organization in the world because of his name?

Or because that's who he was.

He didn't know, and he didn't want to.

He slept restlessly that night, his dreams filled with names, Shakespeare, an opal necklace, and a bushy haired brunette who might just understand Draco Malfoy more than he understood himself.

**Review my lovelies :)**


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